


Stones

by Vinvalen



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinvalen/pseuds/Vinvalen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cid has always been more observant than people gave him credit for...and he will need every bit of that ability to unravel the mystery that is Vincent Valentine. How, after all, is it possible to understand someone who does not communicate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cid Highwind had a mystery to solve, and the man _hated_ mysteries. Mysteries tended to be ill-defined, inefficient things- and in Cid Highwind’s experience, inefficiency led to complacency. Complacency led to disaster. Therefore, he suffered no instance of either on his watch, or on his ship. 

Cid hadn’t lived as long as he had under such opposition as he and the other members of the team faced without knowing everything he possibly could about the airship he piloted. From bow to stern, every deck, every quirk of every mechanical device fell under his watchful eye. He took a lot of ribbing about his almost uncanny abilities when it came to knowing the subtleties of his ship, but he just shrugged such incidents off, and went on his way. Knowing when an engine was heading for a breakdown, or a prop slightly off balance simply by the quality of the hum through the deck plates had saved them all more than once in tight situations.

This latest quandary was none of those things, but Cid applied the same diligence to the solving of it as he would any nuance of mechanical failure.

The problem was the newest member of their team; one Vincent Valentine.

Cid weighed what he knew about the man against what he had yet to discover, finding the enormity of the gap completely unacceptable. Cloud had filled in the basics. Calling in debts had padded the facts to a certain degree. 

Cid now knew the sketchy details of Vincent’s origins as a former member of Shinra’s Turks, in addition to some random information about Vincent having been used as little more than a lab rat by Hojo. Swathed as Vincent was from head to foot in a cape concealing everything of his physical appearance except a small portion of his face precluded any insight in this area, other than the presence of what seemed to be a mechanical arm. No one other than the silent gunman’s chosen target ever got close enough to learn otherwise, and by then there wasn’t enough left of them to divulge the secret. 

Vincent’s fighting capabilities, which bordered upon the uncanny, were pursued with silent and single-minded dedication. He never disobeyed an order. He was where he was needed, _when_ he was needed, and had saved each of the members of AVALANCHE from serious injury or death on several occasions. The skill of his marksmanship approached legendary status, even among his former peers. Vincent never seemed to be injured, of if he was, to recover with the speed of the obviously genetically enhanced.

Questioning Vincent Valentine directly about anything was met with a blank stare, as if he had either not understood the inquiry, or was unable to formulate an appropriate reply. The gunman would simply stare with those uncanny, jewel-toned ruby eyes until the one who had approached him turned away, or instead swiftly disappear if the opportunity presented itself.

Valentine never offered an opinion. Never questioned anything he was told. Never argued, laughed, or even smiled, as far as Cid had been able to determine. Any unavoidable communication was limited to the fewest words possible.

The most annoying trait Vincent Valentine possessed, in Cid’s opinion, was his ability to vanish without trace within Cid’s own ship as if he were no more than a ghost or a figment of the team’s collective imagination.

Valentine had been assigned a cabin as would any other member of the crew upon his arrival- yet no one, to Cid’s knowledge, had ever observed him entering or departing from it. He never invited anyone to share his off time, nor accepted any offer to share company, something else Cid had learned early on. The invitation to come by for an evening of cards or a beer had been met with the same, seemingly uncomprehending silence as any other non-vital question presented to him. In fact, Cid had only been able to initiate conversation on one occasion. The pilot’s attempt at communication, however, had been interrupted by a question from Nanaki and Cid had looked away for a moment to deliver a single-word answer. When he turned his attention back to the reclusive gunman, Vincent had disappeared.

Eventually, after several weeks had passed, Cid took the opportunity under the guise of routine inspection to enter Valentine’s quarters. He was not truly surprised to find them empty- a fine layer of undisturbed dust covering every surface. The room had obviously never been occupied from the day it had been assigned, and Cid felt the first twinges of concern.

Thus it was that Cid found himself back where he had begun, with no more answers than he’d had when he started trying to unravel the enigma that was Vincent. Cid couldn’t believe he was actually beginning to lose sleep over the puzzle, but then again, he was known for keeping odd hours anyway. No one would think it unusual for him to be on the bridge at this hour, and he did have the reputation of enjoying a cup of tea while watching the sunrise. 

Idly changing course for the best view of the event, Cid detected movement in his peripheral vision, beyond the tall windows of the bridge. _Well, now…this was a new development._

The momentum of the airship and the pre-dawn thermals lifted and swirled Vincent’s hair and cloak as he stood upon the observation deck outside. His head tilted back, eyes closed, his hands resting upon the railing, Vincent was stillness itself in a sea of motion, seemingly listening to something only he could hear. A trick of the breeze, combined perfectly with the angle of his head revealed Vincent’s profile in full for the first time and Cid was startled to stillness himself: frozen, staring. Vincent was slender, his slender frame unveiled as the breeze lifted the blood red cape away from his body. Somehow, Cid had always thought of him having more substance- an illusion gained from observing Vincent’s prowess in battle. 

_Vincent Valentine was beautiful._

Where had that thought come from? Vincent was male, and to Cid, guys were well… _guys._ Not beautiful. _No. Not beautiful at all._ Cid shifted uncomfortably, frowning, forcing himself to look away. But his gaze drifted back for another look, only to find himself being observed in turn. Their eyes held for several long moments and Cid found himself smiling. Then the rising sun burst fully upon the horizon, painting the landscape below in fiery gold and shadow. 

Vincent Valentine framed in the glorious glow of morning was a picture Cid knew he would remember all his life.

Vincent abruptly fixed his attention upon something below, his head tilted as if in silent question. The airship was cruising above the Ancient Forest, and anything noteworthy enough to capture Vincent’s attention merited further investigation. Cid jotted down the coordinates of their position, slowed the ship to hover, and went to join Vincent on deck.

A tiny, shallow lake’s eastern edge was enveloped in a crescent of shadow; the rest bathed in the fierce red of the sun’s early rays. This was nothing unusual in itself, but the angle of their observation lent the lake the semblance of a ruby red eye. Cid glanced at Vincent, seeing an expression upon his face for the first time that was more than utter detachment.

Vincent’s features seemed softened, a ghost of a smile hovering there. They watched the lake together until the sun rose in full and the illusion faded. Cid went back inside, double checking their position before he went to a small cabinet he had wired with a hotplate for his teapot. He removed two cups from the tiny shelf above and filled them. Cid didn’t care if the body of water already had a name. It would ever be fixed in his mind by the one he had chosen in those recent moments on deck. 

_Vincent’s Lake._

Back out on deck, Cid hesitated. He wasn’t good at idle conversation and from his previous observations, he wouldn’t get much of a response anyway. _So be it._

Cid didn’t ask if Vincent wanted the second cup he had brought; he simply offered it to be accepted or declined. Vincent stared at the cup for a long moment, as if it were something he had never before encountered. His jewel eyes flicked to Cid’s then back to the cup. At last he reached for it tentatively, with his black-gloved hand. Cid smiled, nodded. The mechanical arm, gauntlet, or whatever it was remained hidden in the folds of his cloak.

They watched the morning in silence; Cid’s loud, abrasive nature for once laid aside. Instinctively, he somehow knew if he spoke wrongly, Vincent would disappear again. 

It came to him that there was something sad about watching Vincent drink his tea. Cid’s thoughts conjured the image of someone who seemed to have forgotten there were good things in the world, or, judging from Vincent’s mostly veiled expression, things beyond his hope of reaching, the simple joys others took for granted.

The empty cabin he’d discovered suddenly made sense to Cid, steeling his resolve to watch Vincent more closely.

Considering himself and the others’ collective eccentricities and outright emotional damage, Cid concluded that AVALANCHE was probably the biggest bunch of misfits to ever sail the starry skies. Still, they managed. They should, in all likelihood, have been forever at each other’s throats. Instead, they had melded over time into an only moderately dysfunctional, often demented sense of family. Given a chance, Valentine should find his way among them… if he didn’t do anything to deliberately harm anyone. _No one should be so alone,_ Cid decided, _no matter who he was._

A plan began to form in Cid’s mind. _Move slowly, Highwind...Steady as she goes. You may figure him out yet._

*****

Even possessing such volatility as he did, Cid could be stealthy in achieving his ends. His friends had come to accept his short-fused episodes, adjusting accordingly, knowing them to be not the result of vindictiveness, but rather a necessary venting of stress. Yelling was simply Cid’s most common method of communication, and was thus taken in stride. So was his tendency to be up and about, prowling and muttering at all hours. Cid was merely being Cid. Thus was his plan set quietly in motion, with no one being the wiser.

Putting his plan into motion, Cid made a point of assigning Valentine’s duties somewhere on the opposite end of the ship from where he would be searching for Vincent’s hideaway, making sure the gunman was thoroughly occupied before picking up a toolbox and heading off to the day’s chosen location.

Cid searched for days, looking into every nook and unlikely cranny without result beyond a few strands of long black hair and a tiny fragment of red cloth in a shower before finding a single additional clue. 

Even so, he almost missed it. 

The pilot was in the engine room, tinkering here, adjusting minutely there, when he spied a single, ragged slip of paper behind one of the boilers. He almost tossed it into the nearest bin, determining to have a prayer meeting with the person whose job it was to keep the area in pristine condition. Then a partial word caught Cid’s eye upon the scrap he held. The script was handwritten, with an elegance entirely in opposition to the humble paper upon which it had been scribed.

_Speak to me in silence_

_Words are stones, weighted upon the soul_

Cid reread the simple lines several times before quietly folding the paper and placing it in his pocket. 

He made a thorough sweep of the massive room, but there were no further clues, so Cid made his way back to the place where he had initially discovered the scrap. thinking. 

And then his gaze traveled upward.

Far above Cid’s head, and running the entire perimeter of the room was a narrow, rarely used catwalk- just wide enough for someone to ascend and overlook the boilers below. His gaze followed the catwalk’s path around the bulkheads until it disappeared into the shadows behind a maintenance shaft. Cid swiftly made his way over to the access ladder, pulled it down, and began to climb.

What he found was a sad little nest, heartbreaking in its sparseness.

The teacup Cid had given Vincent the morning on deck sat beside a small box of basic medical supplies. Beyond that was a single candle, stuck with melted wax to a dented metal saucer. A few crackers and a couple of cookies lay on the edge of the saucer.  
Lying beside it, pinned into a scrap of cloth wound with black and red thread was a needle. Tucked further back into the corner was a container of gun oil, and a stash of ammunition.

But the most pathetic thing of all was the pillow. It was worn and shabby, its edge fraying and most likely claimed from someone else’s castoff. Peeking from underneath was the corner of a ragged book with scraps and slips of paper obviously claimed from many sources spilling from inside. Paper like the one he had found. Cid almost reached for the book, but drew his hand back.

Cid knelt in silence a long while, just looking at the rags of Vincent’s life. He reached into his pocket, intending to place the paper he had found with the others in the book, but his hand fell to his side, the paper held loosely within his grasp. At last, Cid refolded it and put it back in his pocket. He rose abruptly, swearing under his breath. 

_The man didn’t even have a fucking blanket._

The pilot made his way back to the ladder, descended, and left the engine room behind. He went to his own cabin, stripping off his good blanket and the almost-new pillow from the bed. He could always get more for himself from supplies, or from a spare cabin.

Cid returned to the engine room and placed his bundle on the catwalk close to Vincent’s little hideaway, but did not invade his space again. His gift might be rejected, but maybe it wouldn’t be. Cid could only wait… and hope.

*********

Two days later, Cid was again on the bridge at sunrise and lit a cigarette while going about his routine. Distracted, he fetched his teapot, and reached for a cup. He had almost poured his tea into it when he noticed the slip of scrap paper tucked inside.  
Cid set the kettle down and unfolded the tiny scrap, carrying it over to where the instrumentation gave enough light to read it.

_Number three prop blade portside_

_Thank you_

Cid refolded this paper around the first one he had found, and placed them both in his pocket.

The pilot swore, recalling the crazy maneuvers he’d had to employ to outrun their latest pursuers more than a week before- something must have happened then. His mind started cataloging the possible problems as he began searching for a place large and secluded enough to put his big bird down. 

************

Cid felt himself break out in a cold sweat when he saw the hairline cracks running along the upper side of the blade between three of the seven prop bolts. Each bolt was the thickness of his wrist, and as long as his arm. If the _Highwind_ had been in a situation to have to make a protracted run for it, there was a very real possibility of the blade shearing completely off. As it was, with welding, the blade could be mended until Cid could make for a safe port for more extensive repairs.

Descending for his torch, Cid wondered how Vincent could have known about a problem that couldn’t be seen from beneath the blade, or when he would have had time to find it. They’d been in the air almost constantly since- and Vincent, as far as Cid knew, hadn’t been assigned duties anywhere near the area since the damage would have occurred.

_How had Vincent known?_

*************

So here you have it, folks…the very first fic I ever wrote for the FFVII fandom, back in what, 2009? Hope you’re enjoying it so far, and thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Late that same night, Cid returned the engine room, toolbox in tow. He set it down rather gently on the floor and went about quietly unpacking the contents.

First was a large towel, which he spread out beside the box. It had served as padding for what was underneath; for a teapot followed, joined immediately after by cups. Next came two saucers and forks, along with more small containers. Once opened, one of them revealed small cakes, the other, fresh berries. These, Tifa had gathered from a nearby meadow while the others worked on repairing the airship.

Cid could feel eyes upon him as he spread out what he had brought. He placed the cakes on the saucers, covering them with the berries. When he had finished, he picked up one of the saucers and turned around, his gaze directed toward Vincent’s hiding place. He smiled, extending the saucer in silent invitation… and waited.

Long moments went by before Cid’s patience was rewarded. Vincent appeared, silent as a shadow from behind the maintenance shaft and stood gazing down. Vincent’s response was the same as before, his gaze flicking from the saucer to Cid’s face as if puzzling out the pilot’s intentions. Then he simply slung one leg, then the other over the railing, and _drifted_ down to the engine room floor.

Cid almost dropped the saucer in shock before noticing a glint of something akin to humor in Vincent’s eyes. The expression was quickly gone, but Cid _knew_ what he had seen. Cid’s smile broadened when Vincent approached and accepted his offering. Cid sank down to sit cross-legged beside the towel, reaching to pour their tea.

Vincent held his plate, staring at what it contained as if trying to decide if it was dangerous. He finally reached out, poking at a berry with a claw of his brass-covered arm. He speared it, bringing it to eye level, simply looking. Cid watched him in fascination, wondering why such a simple thing should require such scrutiny. At last, Vincent brought the berry to his lips, and a pink tongue darted out, tasting. The berry disappeared in a flash, yet he did not immediately reach for another. Vincent held the berry in his mouth, his ruby-jewel eyes crinkling with something that was almost a smile before meeting Cid’s own.

Cid grinned and plucked a berry from his own plate, popping it into his mouth. His eyes drifted closed, the smile remaining upon his face as he savored its taste. Cid hummed with the enjoyment of it; pleased not only with the sweetness, but being able to share this simple pleasure. When he opened them again, Vincent was watching him, a faint smile playing about the corners of his mouth.  
Cid picked then picked up his teacup, offering a wordless toast.

And so they sat, the low hum of the engines providing music for their simple picnic.

Afterward, they walked out on deck, sharing the view of the stars, still wrapped within companionable silence.

Just before sunrise, Vincent curled into the warmth of his blanket, inhaling deeply of the scent of its former owner still lingering upon his pillow, his expression peaceful.

**********

Cid, determined to complete a full inspection of the airship’s exterior, decided to allow everyone an extra day of ground time. A cool morning soon gave way to uncomfortably warm midday, and Cid was grateful to be finishing early enough to spend the rest of the afternoon lounging somewhere in the shade. He was giving a final scrutiny to the starboard props when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye where a flash of red was disappearing into the nearby treeline.

Cid had noted a large stream in that direction before they landed, so he decided to follow Vincent and explore the area along with him. At least it would be cooler near the water.

Vincent’s unique tracks were easily followed in the soft earth, and before long Cid reached a place where the trees opened up to reveal a large pool the stream had formed.

Gigantic ferns and moss-covered boulders at the pool’s edge made for an idyllic, peaceful setting and the pilot felt some of his aggravation from recent events begin to melt away.

At the far edge, the stream cascaded from a rock overhang, creating a waterfall that descended from a height almost half that of his airship’s observation deck from the ground. Cid’s view of the falls was partially obscured by one of the tremendous boulders edging the pool, so he decided to investigate further after he had indulged himself in a bath. The showers aboard the _Highwind_ served their purpose well enough, but such a welcome opportunity for a long soak in the crystal clear water was not to be wasted.

Cid quickly stripped and submerged himself in chest-deep water, swimming a few lazy strokes toward the center of the pool. He came up shaking the water from his face and hair, wiping it from his eyes. When he glanced to the waterfall, he froze with his hands still wiping wet hair back from his forehead.

Beneath the cascade, with his back to Cid, was Vincent. He stood with his face upturned to the falling water, his long black hair a satin ribbon down his back to his hips. On a large rock nearby was Vincent’s clothing, neatly folded. Atop this was a shape of gleaming brass. At least there was one mystery solved; the brass was a gauntlet, rather than a prosthesis. Weighting the bundle of Vincent’s, Cerberus lay within easy reach.

Cid meant to retreat and leave Vincent his privacy, but he couldn’t look away.

Vincent’s slender body was as well formed as a dancer’s, beautifully proportioned, his pale skin gleaming like porcelain in the afternoon sun.

If Cid had thought him beautiful before, it was nothing compared to the vision before him now. He found himself unable to breathe, a warmth building in his lower belly, along with a tightening that persisted despite the coolness of the water.

_He wanted to bury his hands in that dark ribbon of hair, to touch, to taste, to bear Vincent down into the water, to…_

_Damn!_

Vincent turned toward him and Cid could clearly see the discolorations on his skin despite the distance separating them and Vincent’s body being partially obscured by the falling water.  
Apparently Vincent hadn’t come through their last skirmish unscathed after all. 

Cid had verbally raked the members of AVALANCHE over the coals on several occasions for attempting to hide or make light of injuries. The pilot submerged again to swim the remainder of the distance between himself and Vincent; taking a few moments to cool his wrath. He resurfaced slowly and found himself staring down the barrels of Cerberus. 

Vincent’s expression was unreadable, but his meaning was clear. There was no hint of recognition in his eyes.

Cid gained his feet and stood his ground. 

What the pilot had taken for bruising from recent injury was in fact heavy scarring…and Vincent’s scars were hideous. They were huge, puckered and uneven, obviously very old. Whoever had done this had obviously not cared for the end result, as if Vincent had been sewn up in haste so that no one need be inconvenienced by anything within the man having an opportunity to fall out.

When Cid looked up again, Vincent’s head was turned away, his expression colored by shame. The hand holding Cerberus had fallen to his side, the gun held loosely in his grasp as Vincent attempted to hide the ruined mess of his other arm behind his body.

Slowly, and with great care, Cid took the gun from Vincent’s lax grip, moving to place it back upon his folded clothing. Cid paused, thinking, then reached down and chose a water-smoothed, shimmering white pebble. Turning to face Vincent once more, Cid reached for his hand, placed the stone in his palm and folded his fingers around it, holding Vincent’s hand between his own.

Vincent still refused to meet his eyes and Cid reached slowly once more, his other hand gently turning the gunman to look at him, his hand remaining to cup Vincent’s face. Cid’s expression was honest and open as their gazes met, and a single word formed on the pilot’s lips. It was swallowed by the roar of the falling water, but he knew Vincent had understood when those jeweled eyes widened in disbelief.

_Beautiful_

Cid stood quietly, allowing Vincent to read his truth. When the ruby eyes blinked in confusion, Cid took the opportunity to gently draw Vincent close, closing his arms around him and bringing the dark head to rest upon his shoulder. The desire Cid had felt earlier was blanketed in something deeper, something profound, as he felt Vincent’s shuddering sigh.

They stood together for a long while until Vincent slowly pulled away. He moved to dress himself, but Cid noticed the small stone was carefully laid aside and then reclaimed when Vincent was finished, disappearing somewhere within the folds of his shabby cloak. Without looking back, Vincent made his way around the pool and disappeared into the woods in the direction of the ship. 

Cid seated himself on the stone where Vincent’s clothes had lain, watching the falling water as the sun slowly sank to the horizon.


End file.
